So Wide a Sea
by StarSpray
Summary: While exploring Tol Fuin, Eluréd meets an albatross. They chat.


_Written for the 2018 Back to Middle-earth Month prompt: Create a fanwork that includes an animal that lives in or near the water_

 _Follows directly from my other fic Lonely Isle of Himling._

* * *

Tol Fuin was what remained of Dorthonion—the highlands, hard terrain even before it was pummeled and re-shaped by the War of Wrath and Beleriand's drowning. There were some trees growing, bent, twisted, gnarled things, but full of life and contentment even on such a difficult piece of land, but most of the life on the island consisted of birds—thousands of the things came to nest and mate on the beaches and jagged cliffs overlooking the water. The noise was deafening, and it took Eluréd and Elurín hours to find a place to come ashore where their boat would not be in danger of a nice thick coating of seagull droppings. In the end, they didn't find a place naturally protected from the birds, but instead came to an agreement with the birds themselves.

The trees, though quite old, were not old enough to remember the War of Wrath or anything before; but the land remembered. The stones whispered to Eluréd as he climbed them, telling him how once they had been grand mountains, towering over plains and forests, home to eagles, trod by only the bravest of Men and Elves. They recalled the Dagor Bragollach with its rivers of fire, and the War of Wrath that shook the very foundations of the earth. They were lonely, now, a small cluster of broken peaks surrounded by waves. The eagles did not come anymore. No Elves sang, no Men walked, no Ents wandered around them. Only fish visited their roots, and only gulls and other sea birds flocked to their peaks.

Elurín wanted to look for other signs of the people who had once lived in Dorthonion, hoping for bits of things they'd left behind, as there was on Himling. Eluréd left him to it, and wandered west, to the cliffs overlooking the sea. He squinted against the late afternoon sun toward the western horizon, but of course there was nothing to see, except water and sky. After a while he did glimpse a few bursts of what looked like steam, that he knew to be a pod of whales come to the surface for air and a bit of sun. It was tempting to find Elurín and take the boat out to see them, but Eluréd knew they would probably be gone by the time they managed to get the sail up.

He sat down on the cliff, dangling his legs over the edge. It was hard to think that he sat now on lands that had once known his grandfather, and his grandfather's people. Eluréd would have liked to see Dorthonion as it was before the Dagor Bragollach, or at least before the War of Wrath, but that would have been impossible even if Nellas had not taken them east into Eriador after Doriath fell. He sighed.

After a while a very large bird alighted on the cliff nearby. It was larger than any of the gulls, with a wingspan even wider than Eluréd was tall. It stood for a moment preening its glossy white feathers, before fixing Eluréd with one sharp black eye. "Well met," it said finally. Eluréd started; unlike most birds he had known, but like some ravens, this bird spoke the Elven tongue. "Don't look so surprised," it said, settling down on the ground. "Haven't you met an albatross before?"

"I beg your pardon," Eluréd said. "I haven't." He inclined his head courteously.

The albatross settled itself more comfortably on the rock. The wind picked up a little, whipping Eluréd's hair about his face until he wrestled it back with a tie. "You must be one of the Peredhil," the bird remarked after a little while. "One of Lady Elwing's descendants, I suppose."

Eluréd started. "Elwing's _descendant_? Sweet Elbereth, whatever gave you that idea?"

The albatross made a croaking sound that Eluréd realized after a moment was what passed for laughter, if you were a very large bird. "There's a bit of the Powers in you. We birds can always tell—Melian was always more fond of songbirds than sea birds," Eluréd wondered if he imagined the bit of haughtiness in the albatross's voice when it spoke of songbirds, "but we are fond of her, and her children, all the same."

"Well, you're partly right," Eluréd said. "But I am Eluréd, son of Dior—Elwing is my sister. Have you really flown all the way across the Sea to Valinor to meet her?"

"I could fly across the Sea and back without a moment's rest, if I wished to," said the albatross, and Eluréd was quite sure he wasn't imagining the smugness there. "I wasn't going to stop here—all these gulls are so tiresome—but I saw you sitting here and wondered who would want to come visit this desolate spit of land." Nearby a cluster of gulls set up a chorus of squawking, taking great offense at the albatross's description of their nesting grounds. The albatross said something in bird language that Eluréd suspected was quite rude, and they subsided, grumbling.

"This island was once part of Dorthonion, where our ancestors lived," Eluréd said. "My brother Elurín and I found it on a map, and were curious to see it. I am very glad we came, if only to meet you, Master Albatross." He hesitated, and then asked, "You said you were fond of Melian's children—that means Elwing, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes. She is a friend to all manner of birds who visit her tower, on the shores of Aman. She feeds us, and knows our language, and often she will take our shape to fly out over the water with us, just for the joy of the wind and sun on our wings. And we bring her all manner of news. Mostly she asks about the Men in Númenor, though nowadays the news does not make her as happy as it used to; but she's always pleased to hear news of her other son. She never asks about _you_ , though."

Eluréd shrugged. "It's a bit of an open secret now, but for a very long time my brother and I were content that no one should know that we had survived the sacking of Doriath. I suppose Elwing still thinks we're dead." It struck him quite suddenly that that wasn't at all fair to her. He and Elurín had no plans to sail West any time soon, but at least they could send some kind of message to her. Not a letter—neither of them were good with letters, and Eluréd couldn't read his own writing half the time he tried—but something…

He had a thought. "Were you flying east or west today, Master Albatross?"

"West," said the albatross. "And I will be continuing my flight now, I think. All these gulls—you will go deaf if you remain here too long, Dior's son."

"Will you take a gift to my sister for me?" Eluréd opened his pack and dug through it, eventually finding a necklace of brightly colored glass beads. He had traded for it several years before, in a town in Wilderland known for beautiful glasswork. "And of course I will give you something for your trouble." He had some dried fish in his pack as well, though he supposed that was poor payment for an albatross that could find fresh fish whenever it liked.

He was right about that. "I will take your trinket," it said, "for no other reason than I am fond of Lady Elwing and it will make her smile. And I will give her your greetings. You may keep the fish."

"You have my thanks, Master Albatross." Eluréd carefully slipped the necklace over the bird's large beak and neck to its slender throat; it was a slender necklace, and light, and would not hinder the bird in its flight. "It was an honor to meet you."

.

Elurín was indignant when he learned about Eluréd's meeting with the albatross. "I would have liked to meet an albatross! Why didn't you fetch me?"

"I didn't know at first it would be an albatross that knew Elwing," Eluréd replied. "I'm sure you'll have another chance—I think it visits Lindon, sometimes. Or if it doesn't, another one might."

"Ah, well. And you gave it that necklace you've been carrying around? I thought you were going to give it to Galadriel."

That had been Eluréd's original idea—it was not at all a stately or elegant piece, all bright red and blue and green, that he had thought it might be funny. But their paths had not taken them back across Galadriel's since he'd gotten the necklace, and he'd been starting to think he might just give it to Celebrían, who they saw much more often, and who was much more whimsical than her mother. Now he shrugged. "I didn't have anything else," he said. "In fact it's lucky I had that necklace—I forgot it was in my pack until today; otherwise I would have left it back in Lindon."

They sat together in a small hollow near the center of the island, sheltered from the wind—and mostly from the gulls' noise—by the trees that grew there. The air smelled sharply of pine, and there was plenty of dry dead wood about for them to have a nice fire, without bothering any of the living plants. Elurín busied himself starting that fire; he had gone fishing after finding nothing of interest on the island, and Eluréd busied himself now with their meal, cutting up the meat and adding some herbs and vegetables they had brought with them.

Eventually, Elurín said quietly, "Do you think she'll forgive us? For not joining her?"

Eluréd didn't answer immediately; the only sound in the hollow was the crackling of the fire, and the soft sizzling of their dinner as it cooked. He thought about Elwing; the last he'd seen her she'd been bundled up in many layers of blankets and clothes, with the Nauglamír hidden beneath enough of them that even the Silmaril's light couldn't escape. Her eyes had been wide and dark and frightened, and her cheeks sticky with tears. He remembered hugging her and telling her everything was going to be all right.

Everything had not been all right, as it turned out. Not in Doriath and not in Sirion. It was a good thing, Eluréd thought, that he had not been remembering these things when he encountered Maglor on Himling. He might not have stopped at a single punch.

"I suppose we'll find out someday," he said finally.

"Yes," Elurín said. "Someday."


End file.
